Ma Vhenan
by Snartz
Summary: Her heart had gone missing, vanishing before her on the very battlefield they had shared potions a few minutes prior, and yet she still lived. This is the story of Vevra Lavellan, and her struggle living without a heart. Solas/Lavellan Major Spoilers Inside
1. Prologue

Notes:

After finishing Solas' arc, I was left heartbroken and wanting. In the space of time where I wait eagerly for a Solas Dlc, I will post my own speculation of what may happen to my Lavellan. There are and will be major plot points of the game revealed, so keep that in mind before reading.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Her innards plunged deep down inside her abdomen. The ecstatic atmosphere dulled around her as her eyes landed at the empty space at the top of the stone steps. She was well aware of the eyes that followed her as she jumped and sprinted up the stairs, coming to a halt that forced small shards of rock deep into the exposed flesh of her toes and heels."Ma'arlath" the phrase that dripped from her lips sounded like the loudest blare of Bull's horn to her shell shocked ears. The world around her fogged and seemed to pull itself tight away from her searching eyes.

She was not a fool.

She knew he was gone and would only show himself once more when he saw fit, and yet her eyes sought out his familiar form, just as the flies sought out Cole's sliced plums.

Solas had abandoned his heart in the middle of the battlefield without even a whisper of farewell.

Her eyes pressed tightly shut for a few moments taking in the wave of emotions which swayed and crashed against her. She knew her companions would be upon her soon and so she bent down low and wide, spreading her feet apart firmly in order to keep her balance as her hand shot from her side, like many of the spells she had fired from her hip a few minutes earlier. Snatching up the remnants of the orb, she cupped her treasure in her tea colored hands. Fingers quaked as the pulse from the anchor slowed to a dull throb. A soft sob was released when she realized she could no longer feel the whispers of the fade. All the power that had once occupied the sphere had completely vanished, not leaving a single crumb for the starving Inquisitor.

Her lips parted and drew the warm air deep into her chest, but no matter how much she gasped for air, she felt as if she were at the bottom of Old Crestwood lake. Trapped in the vast tunnels under the earth, choking on her own tongue.

Fingers dug into the muscle of her shoulder, almost as if physically attempting to rip her away from her own thoughts. The fingers tugged her back to reality and so she turned her face to her savior, just as a flower seeks out the sun. The hand on her loosened and it's owner offered her a smug grin. "Look like you bout shite your breeches!" The elf snickered and yanked the crouched woman up from her position. Letting out a whoop, Sera bounced on her heels "We sure slammed Coryphyfish right into the dirt! Slapped that lumpy smile right off his gross face." The elf grinned cheekily even as her left eye was swollen shut and elbowed the marked woman in the ribs harshly as she tried to coax a laugh from the Inquisitor.

She was rewarded with a bark of laughter.

Whether it was forced or not, Inquisitor Lavellan did not care, anything was a welcome distraction as long as it kept her mind from wandering once more in search of the only face missing in the crowd of companions. Vevra steeled herself and put on the show the rest of her friends expected from her. Behind he back, she was hastily tucking the broken pieces into a pouch located on her belt, taking one last deep breath she sauntered towards her friends.

A grin stretching wide, cracking her dry lips open and yet she continued to smile as a bead of blood welled on the fat of her lips. She joined in the crowd of victorious shouts, pushing down her emotions with each footfall. Tucking these gut wrenching feelings down into her pockets, she held her breath, hoping they would not spill out.

Unlike Solas, she could not survive without her heart.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Bioware does.**

**This chapter mentions sexual interactions. But not at all graphically.**

**Chapter: 1**

She laid exposed in her bed, her breasts heaving with every draw of air. Green eyes fixated on the rafters of her lofty room, such as a nug to the blooms of an elfroot. Each gasp guided her back down to her body, to her unsettled reality once more. The elven woman stretched out her limbs sluggishly, her body slow to react as she finally calmed from her orgasm. Twisting, she snatched her discarded robe from the floor only to drop the silk once her fingers were dried. Perched at the edge of the bed, the woman stared down at herself. The deep olive of her skin shone amber in the candlelight.

"You appear as if poured from the bakers honeyed jar" The whisper of a memory dared to show it's presence. Calling to her, begging to take her away from her lonesome reality. But she steeled herself, just as he told her to steel her heart, becoming sharp and raw in order to ward of the pesky image of his soft smile.

There she was, in the bed he always refused to take her in, nude as the day she first joined her clan. Her marked hand traversed the rumpled sheets, the only place he had not left his physical mark and yet she could not remove herself from him. Her mind wandering to the sneaked touches between bookcases, to a quiet yet firm hand resting at the arch in her back. She always wandered. Her mind drifting from one memory to another as if she were in the fade once more and yet, the thoughts trailed off as her thighs twitched. Reminding her of the wetness which at a time was once welcome, had now become an uncomfortable burden and so she gathered herself up.

Coming to a halt only once she reached her vanity, a small basin where she could wash her face in the morn had been placed there just for her. She emptied the adjacent pitcher into the basin, and snatched up a soft bit of cloth to dab away the cooled sweat from her forehead and neck.

Eyes glared at the reflection in the small mirror before her. Her bare cheekbones shone brightly, as if taunting her.

She felt like a young girl once more, reminding herself of curious nights when she would poke and prod her body alone in the quiet candlelight. The days where she would peak around trees to see what made the older girls cry out so loudly. She had learned much from watching then, yet the experience of it all was much sweeter. Like scotch candies, the burning increasing with every taste. Every touch. Every sad and fragmented memory.

Always drawing her back to him.

To gentle brushes of hands while passing potions, to the soft snort he gave when she made him laugh. He was always the center of her thoughts. There was no evading him. She saw him in the hills of Hinterlands, was reminded of long fingers pressing against her thigh in order to staunch the flow from an arrow wound. Felt his lips against her cheek in the scorched air of Oasis. His presence in the flow of the rain. She saw him everywhere her gaze landed, and yet he remained invisible to her eyes.

Like a spirit bound without her consent. Invading her life so fully that she almost believed she had relinquished her control.

But she had given him control, had she not? Welcomed him when he shuffled into her tent. "To insure the anchor has not yet advanced its hold on you" he had offered. It was an obvious excuse. They both knew why he had come to see her. He tried hard to convince her that he had full control over his emotions and yet, so often he broke. Shattering between her cupped hands and across her lips. She swore he growled when he did so. But when she looked at him, his face revealed nothing but soft bliss. A haze of pleasure on his handsome face, not the strength and possessiveness you would expect from someone who had made a noise akin to a mabari shielding its bone from intruders.

It was odd yes, but she welcomed his oddities. Just as he had welcomed her eccentric personality.

Solas had praised her rough and dirt speckled feet. Had worshiped her beaten and scarred knees. She often heard him speak of her as if she was a beacon of hope for the People. She once thought it was charming, being praised for what others had told her were views unfitting of The Inquisitor. Looking back now though, she no longer found charm in the memory. She only saw pride. He had acted so proud of her that you would think she was a painting completed far better than his expectations.

Not a lover.

Not someone's heart.

You are not proud of your heart. You are not boastful about it beating between your breast. You are encouraging, willing it to beat stronger than ever before. Yet he offered no guidance. Expecting her to beat on her own. A heart needs a mind to tell it to beat, and her's no longer functioned as it should. With her purpose almost fulfilled she was lost in the ruins of her mind, without the slightest spark of veilfire to guide her way out.

She groaned and let out the breath she was unaware she had been holding. Tossing the rag into the basin roughly, she tsked as the water splash onto the floor. She grabbed a discarded pair of breeches, continuing her task by practically throwing herself on the floor to mop up the puddle. Busying herself with the drying of the floor, she did not expect the cool hand that pressed itself between her exposed shoulder blades.

"Da'Vhenan, although I appreciate the show, it will dry by morning."

Her skin froze at his touch. Fingers curled tightly in the fabric willing him away. She heard him chuckle, moving his hand to grasp her shoulder as his other chilled hand carded through her short locks. Once again he returned to her. Every so often he would appear before the Inquisitor with the same message. I will return to you. He said the phrase over and over again. Each time he would bait her. Coax her to respond to his words. When she stopped reacting to his words, he would use his hands to prod and force her hand.

A response.

That is all he wanted. He knew her thoughts. Her desires. She wanted his return. Awaited him with baited breath. Gasping his name in those rumpled sheets as she laid alone.

Always alone.

Solas frowned and pulled the woman up, spinning her to face him. "Lavellan...I promise to you, I will be by your side shortly" Cupping her cheeks, he traced over her unblemished skin. No longer stained with her vallaslin, he had freed her from one burden only to place another upon her weary shoulders. His only regret was not that he left, but that he had caused her pain in doing so. He would mend his mistake. His mistake caused this. Giving Coryphyeus the orb, he had acted recklessly but got the results he had sought for.

What he did not forsee, was her. He had never expected her to be so pure. So compassionate. So intelligent. Well versed in duty and quick to speak her mind. It was as if she was the embodiment of something far more than flesh ever could be. When her eyes flicked up to meet his, he was not surprised by the anger there. Not surprised by the far too warm hands pressing hard into his chest as if to ignite him and turn him to ash. "You break your promises" She hissed, hands sending out just enough heat to scorch the fibers of his tunic , yet he stood firm. His shoulders set hard and his hands fell loose to his sides, allowing her to vent her frustration how she saw fit, and as always she melted herself instead. Her emotion bubbled out of her eyes in tiny droplets, evaporating as they landed on her burning cheeks.

Why must he delve into her dreams?

The only place she was truly free of him and yet he was consistent. Either inserting his form at the corners of her eyes, or murmuring sweet nothings at the base of her skull. He followed her every move, and although he abandoned her, she wanted her heart back. She craved to feel it respond under her fingers once more.

She could not prevent the word that slipped its way through her teeth. "When?" He rewarded her with a half smile and offered nothing more. A frown graced Vevra's face and she pulled her fist back, swinging it forward to clip him in the jaw. Her hand phased through his cheek, the momentum causing the elven woman to stumble. Embarrassed the elf righted herself quickly, and spun on her heel to give Solas a piece of her mind but Lavellan was alone once more.

A whisper ghosted over the shell of her ear, telling her to be patient. His voice left her skin feeling like that of a plucked raven, and so she did what always came next.

She opened her eyes.

She was greeted with the hard grain of the vanity imprinting itself on her cheek. She noted the dry stone beneath her toes and the moon high in the sky, and sighed, lifting her gaze to her tiny mirror. What Cullen had told her rang true.

There really was no rest for the wicked.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes: Chapter includes mild drug use (herbs), depictions of violence, flashbacks, and more sexual content. This chapter follows Solas as he struggles with returning to his life before the Inquisition.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bioware, nor the characters.**

**Chapter: 2 **

The moment he grabbed her hand and forced it up into the rift, he knew he had miscalculated. Knew she was different. An outcast just as he was, torn from her day to day life and thrust into the spotlight.

Anxiety had radiated off her skin and into his palm, and for the first time in a long while, he felt his curiosity peaked. How did she of all people manage to be cursed with his anchor? Taking a few steps back, he analyzed her as she busied herself with introductions. Her form caught his eye, the proud line of her shoulders, the hand fidgeting at her side lighting and extinguishing small snakes of flame in her bare palm. He struggled to gather his thoughts only to be interrupted with her boisterous laughter, he realized then that she had turned to look at him. Offering his name and a quick smile, he gestured to the breech and the mountain ahead of them.

_"After you"_

* * *

><p>She was a curious woman. Odd and sarcastic, yet she knew fully well that she could be tactful. Could use her charming smile and her lashes to stumble weak men and con her way out of paying her tab at the tavern. The woman was so vastly different compared to the meek women usually associated with the People. So different that he almost wondered if she painted on her vallaslin every morning.<p>

Even though he kept his distance with the others, it did not take long for her to come to him. Asking a continuous stream of questions which never seemed to end, and almost always occurred when he was on his way to the alchemist. He would entertain her curiosity as he was never one to say no to advancing one's own knowledge, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet willing his exposed flesh not to be burnt by the bitter frost as he answered her as best as her could. They would continue up to the point until she too was bouncing her feet in order to force blood back into her small digits. However, she would not leave him until she got in the last word, knowing exactly what to say in order to beguile him. She was persistent, and he found himself not minding in the least.

That day in the Fade, when she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips he decided to test her. He expected her to pull away, and yet she still continued to surprise him. She had responded enthusiastically, allowing him the freedom to explore her mouth. To run his tongue against chapped lips and slightly crooked teeth which seemed far to large for her mouth. She busied herself with running her hands over his robe, scouting his flesh with the same determination she used to climbed the hills of the Hinterlands. Her curious fingers worked on his resolve, and so he gave in, allowing his hand to coast down over her spine to land on the curve of her bottom. Giving the flesh a firm squeeze he released her completely, drawing himself away knowing fully well that she yearned for more. With a teasing smile he coaxed her awake, thrilled by the realization that shone on her face.

He awoke as well, the excitement from their interaction thrilled him. His skin tingled pleasantly at the sparks of her lingering touch, relishing in her overwhelming desire for him. He folded his legs and sat on his wooden platform, snatching up his herbal pouch, he rolled up a few leaves of Arbor's Blessing and stuffed it into an intricately carved pipe. Once satisfied, he sent a small spark flying into the dried leaves, setting them ablaze. The first drag, made him shiver. His breathing slowed and his head rolled back to rest against the wall he was leaning on. Solas gazed at the floors above him, wondering what the Tevinter and Spymaster were up to. Surely he would not bother them if he continued his mural. So he set out his pots of ground minerals, the pipe clenched tight between his lips as he slowly folded water into the clay bowls. Once he had a thin paste, he turned his attention to the vast length of wall before him. Solas rolled his shoulders before starting his attempt to cover the walls with depictions of the Inquisitor's accomplishments. As time grew longer and his mind fogged farther, he could not prevent himself from adding little hints of Lavellan in the wet brushes of paint. The olive of her skin here, the red of her lips there. Soon he was painting her on the wall in great detail. Glimpses of scars and freckles he had seen when bandaging her wounds. Her clan's amulet nestled between her breasts, the gentle curve of her waist. He wanted to capture every inch of her. To do her justice. To show all of Thedas what they had cursed and cast away.

His actions that night had him quickly scurrying around his room the next morning, tossing white paint at the wall in hopes of hiding the Inquisitor's likeness coat after coat. He damned himself as he worked, relying on The Inquisitor's consistent schedule for enough time to cover up his shameful actions.

Thankfully he had managed to hide the portrait and clean himself up afterwards with time to spare. Her nose had wrinkled when she came to him late in the afternoon. Curiously peering at the walls in order to find the newest addition to Solas' masterpiece. When she was unrewarded, she slunk up to him with a cheeky grin, asking him his thoughts on the previous evening. The woman stumbled over her words, telling him a poorly executed joke which surely took her all of this morning to create, her _attempts_ at humor did not fail to draw a chuckle from him.

Unlike some whom would remember these memories fondly, he saw them for what they truly were.

Those days were not "the good old times" to which he figured some of his fellow companions would claim. The threat of dying any day instilled fear. There were nights where the Inquisitor would twitch and quiver in her fur cot on the floor of her tent. Would awake in pain from the anchor, begging in her dreams to be helped. To have the pain lessened. Yet she never asked for it to be removed. Never once pleaded with him to take it from her flesh, and that surprised him most of all. He would have expected anyone to request freedom from the mark, yet she was bound to her duty, just as he was bound to his.

Intrigue softened his heart and weakened his resolve. No longer could he pull himself from her. In fact he sought her out many a time. Would come to her room to discuss the next impending mission only to find himself later pressing her firmly against the wall. Her knees practically on his shoulders as he rolled his hips up into her. The sound of flesh pressed against one another was bittersweet. Here she was offering sounds and songs he previously thought he was deaf to. Yet his ears heard them. The sweet lullaby of pleasure building to its peak. The soft worship that spilled from her tongue. He thought the notes had been long lost to him, only to be heard in shards of memories.

But _she_ was real.

_It_ was real.

The revelation caused him to bury his face to the pillar of her neck. To allow bliss to run its course, and for once ignore the gnawing voices at the back of his mind accusing him of being selfish.

He continued the purposeful rock of his hips as he released, watched it all in a rose colored haze. Taking in every detail as if he were drowning and she his last breath. He felt guilty. Reducing her to this. Encouraging her to allow emotions to rule her. To control her.

He was aware that it would all come back to haunt him. Just as the feeling of her hands brushing down the skin of his hips haunted him to this day. Called him back to her. Tempting him like an outstretched hand, coaxing him to lace his fingers between the spaces. He fought the urge to reach out for her and instead tucked his hand deep into his pocket, and turned on his heel.

_In another world.._

He had promised her that, and so a new world he would create. Until then, she was to do her duty, and he...his.

* * *

><p>She often said things which surprised him. Would highlight something he thought so insignificant, yet if you hear her speak you would think she was mentioning something life changing. Earth shattering. So when she brought up the fact that rain had the tendency to make him smell of a soaked mabari, he had gazed at her hard, unable to decide her motive in making such a claim. Seeing his face, she had grinned and rested her head on his shoulder, mumbling against his damp skin.<p>

"It reminds me of home." She had whispered, causing his heart to jerk and ache as if he had been struck by lightning.

He stared at the crown of her head, the dripping locks a short tangled mess as he tried to swallow the words that threatened to heave from his throat. Surely she of all people would accept him. Would understand him. Forgive his deception in favor of continuing their affair. Not allowing himself the chance to ruin all his progress, Solas pulled her to him. Pressed her hard against his chest to distract himself from the words bubbling behinds clenched teeth, threatening to slip between his gums.

_Focus_

He spit the word like it was a curse, using it to shield his mind from the invading memory. His shoulders ached and he was sure he reeked of filth as he made his first stride into the clearing. Standing before the abandoned temple, he made his move. Climbing the stairs, sliding his palm up the cracked railing. Sorrow surrounded this place. Forgotten memories left to lie in the dust and fester. Ignored by all those whom came before him. He weaved his way between the starving spirits, excusing himself as he pushed past them to reach the splintered stone of the door. He chewed at his lip at the deep groves that had shattered the stone that kept the temple sealed.

Solas traced the pry marks with his fingers. Humans most likely, desecrating old memories in their search for treasure they would rather sell than understand. He straightened himself, his footfalls quiet on the worn stone of the main hall. He stood silent, a quick analysis revealed them in the left chamber. Their ignorant and oblivious movements deafening in the serenity of the rest of the temple. In a few quick strides he came upon them. Ripping their flesh as if it were parchment. Their horrified cries fell upon deaf ears. No longer did he entertain the pleas of greedy men, and so disposed of them just as he was required to do so. He had to bring an end to them so as not to endanger his secrets. He could not risk _her_ finding him just yet.

Stretching out his arms, he snatched up the body closest to him, dragging it out to the courtyard where he dropped the deceased man face down in the dirt. With the excess weight gone, Solas let out a wheeze and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting far too old for this.

He rubbed the droplets of dried blood from his hands and face with his tattered and stained tunic, discarding it in favor of a robe he had discovered tucked between the boards of a dilapidated crate. Pulling it over his head, he smoothed it down his arms. The warmth from the pile of burning corpses unnerved him. Necessity. He chanted it continuously. A poor attempt at convincing himself that he had no other choice.

Dusk turned to night swiftly. The sun had grown tired of illuminating a forgotten pile of stone, allowing the moon to take her place. He sat alone in the empty throne room of the temple, feeding his small fire bits of kindling he had managed to scramble together before it became too dark to venture safely from camp. He pulled the massive druffalo pelt tighter around his wilted shoulders. It would not be long before his plan was fully set in motion. The pressure of it all felt as if it grew heavier each day. Alone with his thoughts, he felt as if he was deteriorating. He was unused to being alone after spending quite some time surrounded by the presence of thousands. He thought he would be able to transition back into his old life seamlessly.

He had miscalculated once more.


	4. Chapter 3

**Warnings: Some brief violence.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. All characters belong to Bioware.**

**[I apologize for the delay. Hopefully, this chapter is satisfactory.]**

* * *

><p>They were biting their tongues whenever she walked by. She saw it in the tightening of The Iron Bull's jaw, the way Blackwall would rub the nape of his neck in the pauses of conversation, and the shift of Varric's eyes. They wanted to ask her, but they refused to make the first move. Sure they made silent attempts to provide comfort, which she appreciated. For example when Cassandra would offer her a smut filled book across the campfire offering a getaway, or perhaps it was Dorian's firm hand on her shoulder offering support, or maybe even Bull's silent offer to make her forget, if only for a night. She would turn them all down. Time and time again she would give a quick upturn of her lips and a solemn shake of her head. Lavellan understood they were trying, but there was only so much they could do for her. Only so many hugs that could warm her skin, only so many books that could keep her attention from him. No matter what escape they offered, the moment she stopped busying herself she would be graced with his memory.<p>

Every morning was the same. She would stumble down the steps and out the door of her room into the main hall of Skyhold, and her eyes would be drawn to his door. She chastised herself over and over, but she could not prevent being drawn to his room. Her hand resting on the doorframe, the magnetic pull threatening to suck her in through the gaps between the hinges. The eyes on her back scorched her flesh. Pricking her skin almost as if dagger striving to embed their blades into her bones. She shook the feeling away and turned to resume her trek out of Skyhold and down the stone steps. She would simply die of embarrassment if she was late to her highly anticipated meeting with a mug of ale.

"I-Inquisitor!"

The voice caught her off guard, but no more than the hand tight on her arm. She was spun around and was shocked to see Leliana breathless holding a folded parchment of paper out to her. "We have received word," She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled before continuing on much calmer than before "of a possible sighting" The redheaded woman could not hide the faint smile that creeped it's way to her face.

The Inquisitor stared at her, unsure if her ears had misheard. Surely she was mistaken. She gripped the sheet of parchment carefully, unfolding and smoothing it in order to read the script detailing an account of a farmer on the Storm Coast which witnessed an elf matching the description of the man they had sent scouts searching for. Storm Coast? Her brows furrowed, it did not add up. She would not have expected Solas to go there. She had pictured him in an abandoned Grey Warden Keep, or hidden in the mysterious tombs of some cave beneath the earth. Perhaps that is why she had yet to find him. He could be hiding under her nose. The feeling of bile sat heavy in her throat. It was a lie. She knew it had to be.

A false claim in hopes of receiving a reward.

She stood rereading the words until Leliana touched her lightly on her forearm. "Would you like me to send word to the stables to saddle up the horses?" Vevra made a quick nod, and within moments she was left standing alone in the entrance of the hall. Her eyes shifted to Varric, whom she knew had witnessed the whole exchange. He gave her a nod and stood to collect his things. She let out a sigh, grateful that she could count on the dwarf. All she had to do was collect the two other members of her party and they would be on their way. She rushed down the steps and to the tavern, the anxiety frothing in her abdomen.

She was hot on his trail.

* * *

><p>Cole stumbled as his boot sunk deep into the clay laden mud, allowing the ruddy water to soak his already pruned toes. The storm was giving all that it could, attempting to soak the small group to the bone. Thankful for his wide-brimmed hat, he peered through the thick blanket of rain at the struggling forms of the rest of his companions. Varric was surely cursing as he struggled through the soft earth, the mud coating up to the mid of his thigh. Cole grinned, wishing he had not allowed himself to fall behind because more than likely the dwarf had started recounting a time where he and the Champion of Kirkwall waded through what sounded to be 'putrid shit water' over the roaring storm. He bent down and yanked himself free from the sludge, hoping that if he was careful enough he would be able to hear the last of the story. If not, he could always ask Varric to retell it again. He never seemed to mind.<p>

The next few strides were mud free, and Cole continued onward hoping to at least catchup with Iron Bull knowing fully well that the qunari would heft him out if he became entangled once more. Just as he was about to come within shouting distance of his group, a burst of lightning struck a nearby tree, shattering the trunk and sending it toppling into the path.

He scurried backward, letting out a sigh when it came to a rest a good ten feet in front of him. Cole rubbed his dripping nose and let out a huff of air trying to warm his frigid hands. He could climb over it. It was the easiest way to reach them, he just hoped they had not forgotten him. He shook his head. He was hard to see at times, but they did not forget him. Especially The Inquisitor.

Especially The Inquisitor.

She always saw him.

With renewed vigor, Cole readied himself bending low and flexing his calves. He made to launch himself over the thick trunk, but just as he was about to make the leap the emergence of another presence made him halt. The remnants of recently fired magic made the air thick, hard to breath, drawing eyes to the fallen tree. Convenient.

Without looking back, he called over his shoulder at the man. "All of this just to speak to me?" Cole spat out, turning around to gaze at the taller man. The elf nodded, crossing his arms across his soaked robe. The whispers around him swirled, roaring in his ears. Loud. So loud. Cole picked at his nails, trying to focus on what was in front of him instead on what was around him.

Noticing this Solas quickly expressed his regret, and suddenly the voices were smothered into nothingness. The younger man chewed at his lips, attempting to decipher the whispers that had clawed at his mind seconds ago. Realization dawned on his face. "That is why you come for me? You wish to make her forget?" He asked, a scowl covering his face as he spit the word at the soil. "It is the only way to protect her from the truth." Solas offered, staring at him so intently that it hurt to meet his gaze.

Casting his eyes to his feet, he dug the stained toe of his boot into the earth waiting for the rest of the elf's explanation. But he was not offered any more than that. "She loves you. Gave you her markings. Gentle touches and softer words. Promises. In another world." Cole took a step back, pushing against the rough bark of the fallen tree. "You said that to her. Made her believe, and now you want to take that away. I refuse. She deserves answers." Cole turned to leave, but was caught by the firm grip on the back of his shirt.

"Do you honestly believe she will be satisfied with the truth?" The question hung heavy in the air, pleading to be answered but all Cole could offer was a limp shrug. Solas rubbed a hand beneath his cloak to warm his head, quietly evaluating his next choice of words. "Do you think she is ready to hear the truth?" He looked at the younger man who was busy peering over the fallen tree for any sign of his friends. "Are we ever ready?" Cole quipped, scrambling up the tree and landing on the other side with a wet thump putting distance between them.

"I saw nothing." Cole called out, shifting his weight nervously on the grime covered ground.

"My thanks"

With that exchange officially over, Cole heaved out an exasperated breath as he stalked through the muck and towards a tiny pinprick of light in the distance.

It had taken far too long to arrive at his destination, and once there Cole slumped silently on a log next to the elven woman. Pulling his boots off, he dumped the excess water on the ground and inverted them by the fire. With his chin resting in his palm, he gazed at his other companions taking in their equally soaked appearances.

Inquisitor Lavellan leaned in close and gave him a sweet smile. "I knew you did not abandon me, not yet anyway." She elbowed him lightly in the ribs at the end of her sentence, trying to draw a reaction from him. Cole offered her a half grin, his eyes staring out into the twisted branches of the forest that surrounded them. When their leader got up some time later and called over her shoulder that she needed some rest, all he could do was watch her back disappear behind the curtain of her tent. He dreaded what tomorrow had in store for them.

* * *

><p>Her past haunted her, just as he did. Some nights she was swallowed in her dreams. Thrown into memories where she could only watch in horror as she had to relive each moment once more. She laid curled in her pile of furs, praying for a different recollection to surface. She was answered with a rough palm in her hair, ripping her out of her home. She heard the startled cries of her clan as they awoke to the intruders, tasted the dirt as she was shoved to the ground.<p>

Her magic crackled around her, waiting for the right moment to engulf the raiders in flames. Just as she was about to ignite, her arms twisted in their sockets as she was secured with her hands behind her back. She burned from the inside out, the magic fit to spill out onto the earth. Her flesh seethed and she heard the man cry out from behind her. Just as she went to punch him in the jaw, her eyes locked behind her attacker.

He stood on the outskirts, watching the scene unfold around him. Dressed far more intricately than she had ever seen him. His pale skin swathed in silk, the gold and green of his robe illuminated by the moon offset by the black of his trousers. She blinked a few times before finally noticing that everyone around her had been frozen in time. She spun around taking the scene in its entirety, her lungs felt as if they had been burned. The air felt rough and made her want to heave with every breath. Struggling to defuse her built up adrenaline, she felt him approach and offer his hand.

"Walk with me"

It was only three words, but she felt obligated to comply, and so grasped his hand in hers.

"I am getting close to finding you" She stated as they weaved through the trees at a much slower than normal pace. Solas could not suppress his smirk, nodding as he rubbed his thumb along the top of their clasped hands. "You readily assume the information collect by your Spymaster is correct" he mused.

"Am I wrong? How else would you know to show up at just the right moment?"

"Perhaps I just heard your pleas for help."

The conversation dissolved then, the only sounds surrounding them were the leaves quaking as they brushed past. It seemed to take an eternity before they entered a small clearing, he dropped her hand then and turned to her fully. Hands threaded together, he motioned her over to the statue that had been placed on the outer reaches of her clan's territory. She rubbed the skin of her bare arms and knelt down to fully see the battered figure, she recognized it but the words stuck to her tongue.

Frustrated, she turned to him and was caught off guard by the look on her lover's face. He seemed to tower over her, adding to the feeling of inadequacy. He knelt down beside her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her pointed ear.

"Take in your surroundings. Every detail and every step it took to reach this place. Follow the path exactly."

Dusky blue eyes captured hers and she was overcome with the intensity his gaze held. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together in a tender show of affection and then rose from his seat next to her. "I hope to see you soon, Vhenan" His voice became increasingly intimate, his hand ghosting over her cheek to the temporary vallaslin the Fade had assigned to her. She felt insignificant as she glanced up at him, leaning into his palm she nodded slowly. He slid his palm up to stroke her hair " Until then" Solas whispered before drawing himself away from her and into the tree line.

She sat there, resting against the cracked stone as she collected every detail of the clearing and stored it away for safe keeping. Determined to get her answers, she pushed herself up off the ground and made her way back the way she came marking each footfall with a significant piece of shrubbery.

She would not keep him waiting.

When the sun first started to peek over the rocky cliffs, Vevra was already awake and knee deep in a stream striking out at fish. She retraced her dream continuously in her mind, refusing to forget even the slightest detail as she sought to grab a few fish for breakfast.

Flinging her hand out, she grinned as it connected with a fish sending it onto the shore with a wet slap. Just a few more and they could be on their way. The thought made her feel conflicted. On one hand she wanted to punch him right in the face, on the other she wanted to make love to the smug bastard. She dunked her face in the freezing water, willing her flushed cheeks to cool. Did she even want to hear his explanation? The reason why he had disappeared almost a year earlier?

She stared down at her warped reflection in the frigid stream, waiting for it to answer the questions for her. It only stared mutely back. Growing tired of its refusal to answer her, she stretched her arms overhead, her palms grasping at the rays of the ever rising sun. The muscles in her back popped loudly, voicing their approval of this new stance in favor of the hunch she had been in before. Gathering the lone fish into her arms, she started her way back to camp hoping the others had managed to dry their soaked rations by the fire.

They would need the energy if they were to make it all the way to her old clan site.

* * *

><p>"How much further, Boss?"<p>

The qunari grumbled, swatting insects off his exposed biceps. He was growing tired of bugs. He could not lop them in half with his axe, and they brought no pleasure or satisfaction in killing them because there were always a million more ready to take the deceased insects place.

The fact that they were in the middle of nowhere on some sacred ass land put him even more on edge. He had no qualms with the elves, he actually admired their resilience, but when it came to their land ….that was another story. He grit his jaw tightly, checking over his shoulder and listening for any movement in the trees.

Elves had weird magic rituals.

Weird magic rituals meant spirits.

Spirits meant an ass load of demons.

He hated demons.

His palms itched to grasp the hilt of his axe, but he refrained from loosening it from the straps on his back in favor of uncapping his canteen. Gulping down the remaining liquid, his eyes shifted to the woman perched upon the back of her mount as she assured him that they were drawing close to their destination. Great. The Iron Bull rubbed a hand over his unshaven chin, watching the Inquisitor's hips sway with the horse's every step. It was torture. They had not yet come across even the remnants of a town, meaning no loose bar maidens or a curious farmer's hand to warm his bed.

His mood was worsening by the second.

They were doing all of this just so the Inquisitor could get some. Sure there was love involved, he did not doubt that. But what it all boiled down to was a dick that needed warming, and a hole that needed filling. He swatted a gnat that had landed on his neck, grunting as he rubbed the splattered remains on the leg of his pants. This had better result in the best fuck of the Inquisitor's life, or he was going to be severely disappointed.


End file.
